If she’s noticed his reaction to her explanation then she’s impressively discreet about it. Ryuekn assumes that she has regardless of outward expression; she’s sharp and he knows, it’s the kind of thing he’d noticed if he hadn’t had so much to drink. Her face remains pleasantly neutral, never hinting at what might be going through her head. Ryuken tries to follow suit; she doesn’t get more than the slight widening of the eyes from him. Although that doesn’t mean he’s without thought. Far from it in fact; these latest pieces of her puzzle, give him even more to wonder and speculate over. He sticks to his guns though; the long game seems to be playing off and Ryuken is loath to deviate when he’s given little in return and information continues, slowly but surely, to come his way.
He reaches for a second cigarette, flicking the lighter’s mechanism; once, twice, thrice, until flame rears up and the rich familiar scent of his brand begins to mix with her peach smoke. He sees her watching again and tries to stare her down a little. He wonders why she finds this so interesting; what element of this mundanity could be so fascinating she feels compelled to observe. Most other people wouldn’t even give it a glance, let alone watch it play out like some form of entertainment.
It’s another puzzle that will go unanswered for now however. He takes a draw, exhales and answers her question. He says his piece and she listens; taking a moment to think before offering her retort. It almost surprises him to learn she doesn’t seek control. Almost. He’s quickly learning that to assume anything about her probably isn’t the wisest idea. Besides, she has a point; defiance makes a statement but only if used occasionally and well. She smiles, he remains neutral; prepared to absorb for now, while she continues to talk. He can understand the need for subtly. He’s always thought that it’s far better to stay silent and win the day, than it is to show your hand early and wind up at a disadvantage. It appears it’s an approach she favours too.
“It’s the quiet ones you have to watch. Isn’t that what they say?”
She falls quiet, then ploughs on, suggesting in being here; bowing to the convention of not being a lone woman drinking by herself, she’s doing every one a favour. He hadn’t thought about it like that before; that breaking the mould causes a butterfly effect that neither of them could put a stop to. It’s a level of concern for others that surpasses even his and again he wonders why. She’s a Shinigami, there is nothing for her to gain in taking an interest in the living. Although, he considers, if she intends to make this realm her home for the time being, perhaps she has more reason than most of her kind to ensure those around her aren’t affected by her actions.
“So, for the sake of unintended consequences, you make the sacrifice and spend your time with the likes of me”
He brings his hand away from his pocket, giving her the freedom to do as she will with her card while he watches. For some it might have felt emasculating to suddenly have the tab picked up by a near stranger, but not for him. He’s proud beyond a shadow of a doubt, but not when it comes to such standards like these. She has money and it’s not as if he’s unable to pay should she change her mind. Does it really matter who picks up what? His silence at the card seems to relax her. She sits back as she hears him laugh, but part of him thinks he picks up a slight edge of tension at the question. Eloquence has never been his strongest suite when it comes to conversation, though he’s gotten better over the years and it wouldn’t be the first time he’d ploughed unwittingly into difficult territory. He’s blunt and knows she wouldn’t be the first to comment on it; if he’s genuinely offended her. She, however, laughs. It’s a sweet sound; lilting and feminine, suspiciously polite compared to the edge of tension she holds, he thinks. With someone he knows so little about, it’s hard to tell whether this is a show of politeness or not.
“You approached me” he counters, on the backfoot again as, deep down, he realises she’s probably right “the responsibility lies with you to introduce yourself.”
He glances at her hair as she speaks, casually wondering what it might look like up and why, if this woman is a seamstress in peacetime, just what happened to warrant semi-retirement. She seems fearless in the face of injury and accident too. That much is clear as she speaks of her work and just what happens to the careless who don’t take proper precautions when quick work is required. Maybe that’s the reason, he thinks, her talk of battle certainly suggests a women who’s more than familiar with the art of combat and the ugliness of conflict. The up close and personal method she speaks of is a far cry from the rare spates of combat he’s experienced.
“The Quincy way tends to ensure you don’t get close enough to the opponent to risk being stuck with the pointy end of their blade” he replies, drily, drawing on knowledge he’d rather forget “It’s the advantage of ranged weaponry”
She raises a hand, calls the bar tender and orders. Ryuken recognises the brand. Not cheap but then again, she’s not exactly short of money. The instructions he’s given seems to imply he should order something of similar quality. Whiskey he knows well, in fact he prides himself on being a consignor; there’s little he hasn’t tried. It is his drink of choice though and with the more expensive blends clearly on offer right now, he decides to pick strategically; making the most of what’s offered while fulfilling her criteria and not taking advantage. It’s a delicate balance but all in all, Ryuken thinks he does well.
“A Yamazaki as well, please. On the rocks. If not, some of the Akashi will suffice”
He shoots her a look, half expecting a comment, then offers a nod of thanks. His eyes follow the bartender; waits for them to get to work before he turns his attention back to her and addresses an earlier point.
“So, if we wish to adhere to convention, I believe you owe me your name”
She nods with understanding in her eyes as he mentions the aphorism. They are both the same here. It is why she’s drawn to him, as few people have the same qualities that she prizes about herself and seeks to surround herself with.
“Yes. If I remember right, and it could be wrong, as it’s not my expertise…but there is some bit of scripture out there in the living world. ‘The meek shall inherit the earth,’ I believe it is.” Her smile is relaxed, slight now. “Given that it seems to be a general truth, strange that more people don’t harness its elegance.”
He listens to her talk, walking through the gates of hitsuzen. She doesn’t need him to be impressed. She doesn’t need to impress anyone as nobody needs to validate her but herself. She does, however, want understanding of her deep concern and careful, methodical nature. He’s an intelligent man, and she can see him breaking apart everything. Even though he’s hard edged and puts forward his ideas bluntly, he’s still receptive in character, willing to learn, and to her amazement, under the harsh exterior, extremely slow to truly judge.
“Partly,” she answers. “As much as I do think about those things, unfortunately I cannot claim to be wholly altruistic. Anyone who claims otherwise about their own actions is either a liar or naïve.”
“I serve myself when I follow my curiosity. I step on your wishes for the sake of myself and all of those other possible lives I touch when I disturb your solitude. But I also attempt to offer you something in return rather than being truly forceful. If company tires you, perhaps a drink will do. If a drink is mundane, perhaps conversation and new knowledge is a good enough payment for any discomfort I’ve caused. And if there is something else in my power, within reason, that I can give to soothe any irritation, I’m not so hung up in myself that I won’t listen to what you need. If I’m to stay in this world, I figure that I might as well get to know the famous figures who dwell within it. So it’s true that it’s all deeply meaningful, as well as a whim, but most things are dual in character.”
There are other things on the table that she can exchange, but she doesn’t mention them. She doesn’t know exactly what kind of man he is, nor does she want to insinuate, lest it cast an unsavory light on her instead. In the Royal Realm, she’s spent centuries alone, and yet coming here, surrounded by far more people than the other four captains with whom she shared her world, she’s far more lonely than she ever thought she’d be.
She can’t exactly tell him that in seeing him and knowing what she does about him, he represents her best chance for someone understanding what she’s been through and why after all of this time and all of this responsibility, this is her final decision. That’s far too much pressure, both for him, and for her too. And truly, she didn’t even realize that that was her heart’s desire until she’d walked downstairs for a drink and noticed the quality of his soul, completely by surprise, without planning, and without any idea that deep down, she felt this way. He doesn’t know this, and even if they became the best of friends after a night of sharing drinks, she doubts that she would let on just what he’s shouldering for her tonight. Perhaps a man like him is stronger than her. Maybe feeling a sense of kindred isn’t something he needs. But maybe, just maybe he seeks it too, and he’s been denied so long that at the mere thought of it, he cuts it off and pushes it aside before it wounds him as well.
Card on the counter and far more relaxed, she tenses slightly again as she can hear the slightly defensive tone in his voice about asking her name. That wasn’t what she’d intended, even if she was correct. She’s caught him unaware and not in the way she meant to, she’d meant to be good natured and not threatening at all. She waves a hand in apology, but she refuses to show regret. “Ah, I suppose you’re right about that,” she says. “And the fact that I already knew yours perhaps is a little unfair, rude and disconcerting. It was not my intention.”
He looks her up and down and he’s thinking again. He makes an enjoyable companion for the fact that he does quietly sift through thoughts. She can’t help a wry smile as he mentions the key difference between fighting as an archer and as she does.
“That is very true,” she says. “I’ve trained with a regular bow as was tradition in my family, but the shape of my soul takes bladed form. Though I am a lucky one who lives a bit between the two worlds of combat. I am a polearm specialist, naginata in particular, so while I do fight hand to hand, there is usually a meter or more of space between me and any opponent.” She looks down at herself for a moment. “As you can tell, I’m very small, so a good part of what keeps me alive is staying out of rage and relying on a weapon with more reach and force, as opposed to inviting someone truly close.”
Bartender summoned, she gives her order and he gives his. She can see him looking at her, almost expectantly, but she waits until the bartender is busy before she says anything.
“Good taste,” she says. “Though I hope that by the end of the night that I can offer you something truly exquisite.” She knows that it’s not always easy to accept gifts, from someone you know, or someone you don’t. But with more alcohol comes loosened tongues and feelings and the conventions are easier, so when it’s that time, he’ll simply appreciate a gift and not fret.
Then he asks the question.
“Yes, I do,” she says. “I am Senjumaru Shutara. In official documentation, I am also referred to as the 4th Officer General of the North and the Oorigami—the Great Weave Guard. But just Shutara is fine. I gave up my first name long ago, and if I’m to drink with you, I’m not going to have you use my title. It would be a little more apt if I wasn’t sealed…as like this, you will only see me possesses two hands, though I can still sew almost as quickly as when I have them all.”
She knows very well that she’s just told him everything…and absolutely nothing at all. But Ryuken is good at this, or at least has been so far. She’s left even more clues if he can pick them up, and if he wants to ask, she will answer. But now he can call her something, which is only polite for her to give him the wording. She looks back at the bartender working his trade, and brightens as her drink is finished being created.
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